


Make it a Triple

by Ralith



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Fluff and Humor, Humanformers, M/M, Weight Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2019-11-13 13:50:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18032933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ralith/pseuds/Ralith
Summary: Ironhide, unsatisfied with the weight he has gained, makes the decision to change his lifestyle. Optimus and Ratchet are there to support him the whole way.





	1. Solo

Back straight and holding in a deep breath, Ironhide inspected himself in front of the mirror. He felt at his stomach, could still see some definition of muscle. Then he exhaled and it was gone, replaced with the small swell of his belly that just hung over his waistband.

_“You’ve gone soft,” Ratchet had murmured against the gentle rise of his belly, teasing with little kisses and bites._

Though it has been nothing but playful observation on Ratchet’s part, the doctor was right- he’d gone soft. And having been at peak physical condition for most of his life, he hated it.

A questioning hum from the bed made him turn around. Ratchet was sleepily groping at the bedsheets, no doubt trying to find the soldier and pull him close for warmth. His head rose from the pillow to look around, blond hair an absolute disaster in the early morning light.

Ironhide gave a small smile and crawled back into bed where the medic immediately took him hostage in his arms, now contentedly sandwiched between Ironhide and the immovable form of Optimus behind him.

Smile fading and eyes beginning to close, Ironhide made a commitment to himself. He had to change.

\--

But three months of change had left Ironhide haggard and irritable. And lonely.

Breakfast was _their_ time together. Ratchet had a talent for making the perfect waffle and Optimus could flawlessly cook eggs any which way. Ironhide could at least turn on the coffee maker, but when they all sat down to eat it was as if all were right in the world. This was something no one could deny them. Except Ironhide did just that, opting for hastily made oatmeal and hiding away in the living room.

That is if he was even home most mornings, leaving at dawn’s first light for a jog or a trip to the gym. Too often Ratchet groggily reached out for Ironhide only to grab at air, his spot in the bed empty and the sheets cool to the touch.

He no longer joined Optimus on shopping trips to the grocery store, missing Optimus’ stubborn display of strength in overloading a handbasket instead of a cart just to be able to hold Ironhide’s hand.

But what pained him most was no matter how much he pulled away, isolated himself, they still reached out to him. Optimus would slip behind him on the couch, lie down and slide an arm around him, to which Ironhide would bolt upright. And Ratchet’s pained expression haunted him when he broke a kiss, ripping himself away when the medic laid hands on his stomach.

Three months and the only change to show for it was the damage he had done to their relationship. He saw no difference in the mirror.

“I’m still fat.”

“You’re chubby, not fat.”

Ironhide stiffened, not realizing Ratchet had entered the bedroom.

“Did I say that out loud?”

“Don’t you dare tell me that’s the reason you’ve been avoiding us. You’ve been embarrassed of your body?”

Ironhide diverted his eyes from Ratchet’s piercing gaze, but his hand still remained on his belly. Ratchet’s silence made Ironhide want to shrink away. However, that was quickly made impossible when the medic wrapped him in an impossibly tight hug.

“You asshole.”

Ratchet was…laughing? He had buried his face into Ironhide’s collarbone, where the soldier felt something wet gather at the dip of his clavicle. Ratchet was crying too.

“Why are you laughing at me?”

“We thought you no longer wanted to be with us! Had we done something wrong? Why were you avoiding us?”

“I was…I was going to the gym. And trying to diet.”

When Ratchet pulled away, he was smiling, tears staining his cheeks.

“Didn’t work too well, did it?” Ratchet flicked his stomach playfully. “’Hide, you’re getting older; Hell, we both are. Losing weight is difficult. Just because you’ve gained some weight doesn’t mean we don’t love you or want you any less.”

“Ratch…”

With a mischievous grin, Ratchet eased Ironhide back towards the bed, his legs catching on the edge causing him to fall back. Ratchet climbed on and straddled the soldier’s waist. He began to knead and rub the soft swell of Ironhide’s belly.

“I won’t stop until you give me some attention. You owe me. And you owe Optimus too when he gets home from work.”


	2. Team Effort

Ironhide slipped into the house with less of a hello and more of a groan so deep-seated and primal his ancestors could probably feel it. He made his way to the couch and folded his body over the back like drying laundry.

Ratchet reached up to rub the man’s back from where he was seated.

“This was a long day even by your standards. Overtime? Or did you stop by the gym?” Ratchet added an annoying little prod to the small roll of fat at Ironhide’s waist. Seven days in a week and Ironhide barely made it to the gym twice.

“Overtime,” Ironhide mumbled and swatted away the medic’s hand. He stood up with great effort, feeling things pop in him that probably shouldn’t have. “Jazz called out sick. Had to cover part of his shift until Warpath got in.”

“And what of your meal plan?” Optimus called from the kitchen. “Come in here and record today.”

Trudging into the kitchen with Ratchet’s laughter at his back, the soldier-turned-security guard took the meal journal from the file holder on the fridge.

“Good to see you too, Optimus.”

“You’re at least home in time to share dessert.”

“Yeah, smells amazing! What are you cooking?” Ironhide peeked over Optimus shoulder to see him spooning ice cream over top two meticulously plated desserts.

“Apple cobbler. Thought I would try something new.”

“And I see there are only two dishes…”

“I did not forget about you. Your dessert is right there.” Optimus pointed to a lone apple off to the side. The warrior grimaced.

“Optimus,” Ironhide started but the other cut him off.

“I may not be able to control what you eat at work, but I can try while you’re home. I reviewed your journal and there are very few days you made the conscience effort to eat low sodium and low carb.”

“It’s a work cafeteria. Not many options there that aren’t pre-prepped.”

“You can take pre-prepped meals from home. Have I not made the offer of preparing your lunches?”

Optimus had, and on many occasions, which is what Ironhide hated the most. Whether it be conference calls, in-person meetings or round-robin email sessions, Optimus was laden down with an incredible amount of responsibility. Ironhide couldn’t have his mate shoulder yet another burden that was meant to be his own.

“I have a proposal. I will diet with you. We eat the same meals, perform the same activities, we push each other to succeed.” Seeing Ironhide about to protest, he added, “I believe a change in lifestyle will benefit me as well. I too have been seeing some changes.”

Ironhide guffawed. _‘You’re fucking perfect.’_

“It is a deal?” Optimus, always the professional, extended his hand. Ironhide thought on it and then grinned.

“Only if Ratchet is included.”

Optimus chuckled and they shook on it. Then he looked down at his cobbler. “Of course. Starting tomorrow.”

\--

 

What kind of absolute mad man placed the produce section next to the bakery? The next shopping trip they took as a couple was almost torture. While Ratchet wandered off to seek out low sodium ingredients, Optimus slowly plodded the produce section, picking out fruit and veggies for salads and stuffed celery sticks and roasted dishes. Meanwhile Ironhide was left to fend for himself in the bakery aisle, standing before freshly baked doughnuts and tables of cookies and making a concentrated effort to say goodbye to old friends.

“You’re already doing well,” Optimus had clapped him on the shoulder upon noticing Ironhide had not once lifted a box of desserts just to read the ingredients. They couldn’t be that bad, right?

“They’re comforting.”

“I know. But we don’t have to sacrifice comfort and taste for nutrition. We’ll find something you enjoy just as much.”

And it wasn’t just the taste that kept Ironhide on routine, it was the experience. This time it was Ratchet’s proposal that they send each other pictures of them eating their shared meals. Optimus seated behind his desk, smiling gently with a spoonful raised to the camera. Jazz and Sideswipe photobombing Ironhide after he had devoured half his dish. And Ratchet sharing a rarely unrushed lunch break with…was that a CPR dummy?

It was difficult and to begin with despairing as he wasn’t seeing the weight fall off. But Optimus and Ratchet were nothing if not the embodiments of hope. At the start of the third week, seeing a small drop in weight overall, but not in his stomach, Ironhide started dropping hints that he wanted to quit. Ratchet was quick to intervene and wrap the warrior in his arms.

“It’s not going to be easy, Hide. It’s hard. On the mind, on your spirit. But look at where you are. Most people give up during the first week. You made it to three.” Fingers teased his paunch before drifting up to Ironhide’s cheeks, grazing the stubbled jaw softly with the back of his fingers. “You can keep doing this. I mean, you’re gonna stop being a stubborn ass now of all times?”

With Ratchet’s help and some literal poking and prodding to keep the warrior moving forward, they together made it to week four and then five.

Finally, at the start of week six, Ironhide saw their dedication and determination come to fruition in front of the mirror. Muscle definition had returned, the gentle swell of his stomach shrinking. His weigh-in results reflected the change.

He was smiling, laughing, as Ratchet tackled him onto the bed with Optimus close behind, sliding up next to the rolling pair.

“You did it!” Ratchet slid his palm over the soft belly, almost reverently touching the warrior. There was still the small roll of fat at his waist, but Ratchet kneaded it lovingly, never once criticizing his body, instead accepting it as a part of who Ironhide had become. And if Ironhide wanted to lose some weight, that was his choice.

“We are proud of you. So proud,” Optimus murmured against Ironhide’s lips. He kissed him slow, but intensely, and with absolute adoration.

“I believe you deserve a treat. A bit of a cheat day,” Optimus spoke again, pressing lips this time to Ironhide’s throat.

“Mmm, one I certainly intend to indulge in.”


	3. Chapter 3

Ratchet’s feet existed somewhere amongst a confused state of agony and numbness. The dogs were barking but their heart just wasn’t in it. He simply wanted a shower, maybe a snack, and to sleep for the next week and a half.

The last thing he needed was Ironhide trying to get into his shorts.

“Not now, ‘Hide” he groaned and tried to shake the soldier off with much difficulty. Not that Ironhide was the clingy sort, but his body was taking its sweet fucking time moving.

“Haven’t held you for weeks.” He loved the soldier’s embrace, hands moving sensuously up his sides and around. Nowhere else he’d rather be. Well, maybe sandwiched between him and Optimus. But damn, if he lingered any longer like this he was going to collapse right then and there in those arms.

“Days, ‘Hide. It’s been 72 hours.”

They were short staffed at the hospital. Damn bug had got the best of them. First Aid, Ambulon, Velocity. Each violently ill but still pushing ahead. But rather than having them work through a mental fog and risk infecting others, the Chief medic had ordered them home and picked up the slack himself. He wasn’t about to let Optimus or Ironhide know that of those 72 hours, he had slept for approximately 20 minutes after staring particularly hard at an ink smudge on a results chart that could have drastically altered the patient’s course of diagnosis and treatment.

Which is why right now he wanted nothing more than the soft embrace of the sheets. But Ironhide trailed him and once the medic was horizontal, slipped between spread legs and perched there.

“If you want to get some so bad, ask Optimus.” The Prime was already in bed beside him, a book open in his lap. He spoke up without looking from the page.

“He did. And we did. Twice.”

Ratchet pulled back a leg and gently pressed it into Ironhide’s stomach.

“Why couldn’t you have lost your libido along with the weight?”

“You don’t love me anymore,” Ironhide fake pouted.

“I do love you, you silly sod. But right now, I love this pillow more.”

He closed his eyes, the rush he got at the thought of finally sleeping greater than any sex, but it was nothing more than a tease. Fleeting and irritating. Ironhide had dropped low and begun to press kisses along the exposed thigh.

“Ironhide,” Ratchet growled. A single, low, warning that equated to ‘I’d knock your ass out if I wasn’t so fucking exhausted.’

He debated driving his other heel straight into the soldier’s balls for good measure, but he was suddenly recoiling from Ironhide’s exploring fingertips. And he had made a noise. One neither Optimus nor Ironhide had ever heard the medic make. Ratchet didn’t even know he could make that sound.

He had squeaked.

He was very much awake now, a pink tinge of embarrassment coloring his cheeks.

Ironhide grinned like a shark.

“Don’t even-!”

Ratchet squeaked again when Ironhide went straight for the knee, relentlessly tickling the now squirming medic with fast, but tender and fleeting strokes.

Ratchet groaned, and writhed, and worst of all, laughed!

“Forget, hah, forget what I said earlier. Hn, I hate youuuu!”

Ratchet howled, and for a split-second lost control, reflexively driving his knee into Ironhide’s side. He hadn’t meant to, honestly, but for that moment, he had the upper hand. He reached behind for his pillow and swung. But Ironhide had recovered too fast and was dodging it, the pillow continuing forward and smashing right into Optimus’s face. Hard.

Soldier and medic froze, and they looked at each other, their eyes doing the talking.

_What have you done?!_

_This is your fault!_

Optimus closed his book and set it on the nightstand.

“Sorry, Optimus!” Ratchet turned to Ironhide, seething. “If you hadn’t-!” With a soft ‘BOP’ Ratchet too took a pillow to the face. When his vision cleared, he saw Optimus wearing a rare, mischievous smirk.

“Ironhide, if you will,” Optimus gestured to the warrior’s own pillow. This fight wouldn’t begin until everyone was armed. Ironhide grinned wide.

\--

In the end two pillows had been split open, their contents littering the bedroom. The bedside lamp was on the floor, everyone’s clothes were somewhere other than their bodies and Ironhide was hopelessly tangled in the sheets. He’d passed out before even Ratchet.

The still very tired, but now very satisfied medic shifted closer to Optimus, the Prime’s chest replacing his irreparable pillow. He hated to admit it, but he had needed all of this. A release (or several releases courtesy of Ironhide’s wild enthusiasm) to the last few days.

Optimus’s hand tangled in blond hair, coming to rest at the back of the medic’s head. He smiled warmly as he looked between his two exhausted lovers and resumed his book.

Darkness consumed Ratchet’s vision as sleep finally came to claim him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was inspired by a Tumblr prompt that requested a more confident Ironhide, teasing, and pillow fights.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a prompt on Tumblr involving Ironhide no longer being comfortable with his weight. Originally posted there and reposted here under a new title.


End file.
